


I Love L.A.

by 7iris



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Accidental Voyeurism, Desk Sex, Los Angeles Kings, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, post-Cup banging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin leans forward and bites the back of Quick’s shoulder. Quick sucks in a sharp breath, and Justin nuzzles the mark he left. “This is supposed to be my reward,” he says, “so we’re doing what I want to do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love L.A.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from tumblr. Originally written for the prompts "accidental voyeurism by an outside POV" and "getting fucked over a desk or table."

Justin’s kissing everyone, so Alec doesn’t take it personally when Justin throws his arm around his shoulder and presses a smacking kiss against his cheek.

Justin’s got two shot glasses in his other hand. Alec takes one when he holds them out, taps it against Justin’s and throws it back.

"Fucking beauty of a goal!" Justin yells in his ear over the music. Alec is flushed from the alcohol and the heat of dancing, but the praise still gives him a warm thrill.

The next time he sees Justin, he’s kissing Quick. Quick has one hand tangled in Justin’s curls, and Alec’s pretty sure he sees tongue.

"Conn Smythe club, bitches!" Brownie yells, and they break apart, grinning. Quick’s tie is hanging loose around his neck and his shirt is halfway unbuttoned.

Justin takes the champagne from Brownie and drinks straight out of the bottle, foam spilling down over his beard. He holds the bottle out to Quick. Quick drops to his knees in front of Justin and tips his head back, opens his mouth. Justin laughs and pours champagne into his mouth. Most of it ends up on Quick’s chest and shoulders.

When the bottle’s empty, Justin pulls Quick to his feet. Quick sways into him, their clasped hands pressed between their chests. Quick leans in to say something in Justin’s ear, and the look on Justin’s face—

Alec watched them make out, watched Quick kneel in front of Justin with his mouth open, but it’s the expression on Justin’s face now that makes him look away, his own face hot.

*

Alec’s been to this club a bunch of times, and he knows the manager’s office has a private bathroom. It’s just a matter of sneaking up there when security is distracted.

The manager’s office also has a couch, a sleek chrome and black leather thing that looks, at the moment, extremely comfortable. Alec flips off the lights on his way out, but then stops. The office is cool and quiet and dark, and he is suddenly exhausted, everything catching up with him at once.

He goes back to the couch. He’s just going to lie down for a minute and rest his eyes.

He dreams about kissing, about the murmur of low voices and the slide of skin on skin. When he blinks his eyes open, he thinks for a moment that he’s still dreaming.

The desk lamp is on, a warm, dim pool of light, enough for Alec to see that it’s Quick bent over the desk, completely naked, his forehead pressed against his crossed arms. Justin’s lost his shirt, but he’s still wearing his suit pants, standing behind Quick.

Justin slides two fingers inside of Quick. Quick sighs and rolls his hips back against Justin’s hand, his spine moving like water.

Alec should, should get up, say something, but he’s frozen in place.

Justin pulls his hand back and presses in again, slow and deliberate.

“God, c’mon,” Quick snaps.

Justin leans forward and bites the back of Quick’s shoulder. Quick sucks in a sharp breath, and Justin nuzzles the mark he left. “This is supposed to be my reward,” he says, “so we’re doing what I want to do.”

"Ugh, fine," Quick says, but Alec can see him smile.

Still, Justin stops fingering him and pulls his dick out, picks up the condom next to Quick’s hip.

Quick turns his head, rests his cheek on his arms. His eyes catch Alec’s across the room, and Alec’s heartbeat stutters, his stomach clenching.

Quick’s eyes widen for a second, and then his soft smile slides over into something wide and filthy. He arches his back a little more, widens his stance. “You staying or going?” he asks.

Alec’s face is scalding hot. Justin looks over when Quick speaks. He grins when he sees Alec, raises his eyebrows when Alec doesn’t say anything. _Well?_

Alec licks his lips. He sits up slowly. He’s hard, his heart is beating fast. It all still feels kind of unreal, but everything tonight has felt unreal.

"Staying," he says, and his voice only shakes a little.

"Good choice," Justin says, and pushes into Quick.

Quick moans. Justin makes a low, smug noise in the back of his throat. He goes slow at first, long, deep strokes, until Quick is panting, pushing back against him.

Justin leans in and presses his mouth against Quick’s shoulder. Quick twists around, so Justin can kiss his mouth. Justin’s rhythm falters and he picks up the pace, fucking into him harder, faster. Quick bites at Justin’s lip, and Justin groans against his mouth, his fingers digging into Quick’s hips.

Quick’s hard, his dick slapping against his belly with every stroke, but he’s not touching himself. Alec wonders if Quick can come just from that, just from getting fucked.

Justin pulls his mouth away and Quick drops his head forward. Justin looks over at Alec. “Quick, hey, Quickie,” he says, breathless, eyes still hot on Alec. “Series-winning goal, Cup-winning goal, don’t you think Alec deserves a reward, too?”

"Fuck," Quick gasps out. He drags his eyes open, manages a ghost of a smirk for Alec. "Only fair."

Alec bites his lip so hard he tastes blood.

Justin grins at whatever he sees on Alec’s face, but it disappears when Quick arches back against him. Alec wants to run his hands down the smooth ripple of Quick’s muscles when he moves like that.

Justin snaps his hips in hard.

"Yeah, c’mon," Quick says, low and gravelly, and Justin’s mouth falls open. He shudders and stops moving, curling over Quick’s back.

For a long moment, the only noise in the room is their harsh breathing and the faint pulse of bass from the music downstairs. Then Justin groans and pulls out slowly.

Quick sighs, almost a whine. He’s still hard. They both look at Alec again, and Alec feels pinned, exposed, despite the fact that he’s the only one wearing all his clothes.

Justin nudges Quick’s hip. “You got another condom?” he asks.

Quick snorts. “What is this, my first Cup?”

Alec laughs, because it’s not any of their first Cups. That strange intensity snaps, and he’s giddy again, with the win, with his team. It’s easy to get up, find the extra condoms in the pile of Quick’s clothes on the floor.

Quick rolls onto his back, stretches his arms above his head. Justin’s already tossed his own condom and he leans into kiss Quick, quick and dirty, while Alec shucks his own pants and underwear.

Alec rolls a condom on, slicks himself up. Justin steps aside. Quick grips the edge of the desk above his head, hooks a leg around Alec’s waist to tug him in closer.

Alec bites his lip. He glances up at Quick’s face, and Quick makes an impatient, needy sound.

"You’re good," Justin says.

Alec lines his dick up and pushes into him. It’s easy, Quick already stretched and open. “Oh, fuck,” Alec says, the hot clutch of Quick’s body almost dizzying.

"That’s the idea," Quick says, digging his heel into the small of Alec’s back.

"Lame," Alec manages.

Justin laughs. He squeezes the back of Alec’s neck, kisses his temple, easy and affectionate.

Alec starts moving anyway, because he can’t help himself. It’s fast and ragged, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to last any time at all.

He doesn’t have to, though, because Justin reaches down and wraps his hand around Quick’s cock. Quick comes on the first stroke, with a high, choked noise. He clenches down around Alec, and that’s what pushes him over the edge, orgasm like a starburst behind his eyes.

His knees go weak and he catches himself, palms flat against the desk on either side of Quick’s chest, his breath coming in huge, ragged gasps.

Quick squeezes Alec’s waist with his thighs. He’s grinning when Alec opens his eyes, lazy and satisfied.

Quick holds up two fingers, and Alec starts grinning back. Quick makes a fist, and it’s Justin who bumps it with his own, because Alec still needs the support of the desk.

"What do I get for a third Cup?" Alec asks.

Quick’s grin gets wider. He rolls his hips and Alec makes a tiny noise at the way it feels around his softening cock. “Get me one and you can find out.”


End file.
